The Winter Guests.
A sure foot planted itself into the icy, snow covered road that meandered its way into the heart of Hogsmeade. The houses were illuminated in a warm, luminescent light that gave the magicked town character and a strange element of romance. It was magnetic and it drew the cold hearted Severus ever closer, despite the whipping winds and harsh chill. The cloak's warmth and protection was wrapped firmly around his thin frame as he trudged into the three Broomsticks, to find solace from the intolerable cold.
The wooden doors swung open and revealed a safe haven from the ice. The room was dark yet so welcoming to the not so distant traveller and the atmosphere was prevalent. Unique creatures were concealed in the shadows of the room, remaining isolated from the conversing crowd of witches and wizards. Snape's cold eyes kept him well distant from the social pool as he successfully pushed himself into solitude. This bar was a form of escapism for the tired professor, he did not need to exert himself and reveal his social ineptitude. It was one of the main reasons why he found the dank and dreary bar a comfort, as opposed to the castle which forced him into an uncomfortable routine.
Potter. The word slipped into his realm of complex contemplation. He wanted to erase the memory however found he was not capable of the feat and the name became heavier with every passing breath. Hate was a mild term to describe the relationship between the famous school boy and the infamous intellectual of the dark arts. That Harry was so conceited, so proud and uncontrollable and sent him into spasms of loathing and disgust. His tactful attempts of lowering the cloud ridden Potter would have been deemed pointless, however Snape showed resilience and continued the torment, the very same torment James instilled onto him.
The line between reality and thought became unclear and ambiguous. Snape was so absorbed into this other realm that he became ignorant of the beautiful gothic that sat beside him. Her enigmatic eyes glanced over at Snape with an undeniable interest and insatiable lust.
" Have I seen you before?" Snape glanced up and reluctantly returned to the world of supposed reality.
" Please, don't burden me with your originality." He drawled cruelly. " Before you persist to embarrass yourself, my legs are very much fine and my father was not a thief." The gothic raised a pierced eyebrow and her blue eyes intensified.
" It was not some cliched pick up line." Snape shook his head in the attempt to ward of her explanation however it proved to be pointless. " You are the distinguished professor. Snape, am I correct?"
" Why is it your concern?"
" I've been observing you." The temptation to leave was remarkably strong. " With a closeted interest. You deserve far more credit than you receive." She softly ran her white hand along his arm, her black fingernails blending into Snape's black coat.
" Oh really?" Snape sounded positively bored at her antics.
" You have taught many ill deserving students who have become great witches or wizards because of your unique passion and knowledge of potions. I share that love of a hot, bubbling cauldron and creating glorious concoctions that are so intricate and precise." The woman pushed her sleek black hair away from her pale and slender face, revealing intense red lips the colour of blood. " I understand the feeling of not being appreciated Severus. We all need to be rewarded for our efforts at some stage."
" How can you relate to it?" Snape remained distant and weary.
" I am a professor, well, I considered myself to be a professor for a great deal of my career. I taught at Durmstrang, teaching rich brats with no form of intelligence. How they tormented me, how they had the potential to anger me with such an unbridled passion."
" I suppose you do have a point." He gestured a waitress over.
" Two Butterbears please." The goth cut in crudely. " I ordered it on the basis that I can safely assume that you will not be my source of heat for the night."
" Do you believe in subtlety?" She shook her beautiful head and for the first time, it actually engaged Snape. This was the first glimpse of beauty that he had experienced in a long time and the refreshing sensation was overwhelming. It was not animalistic, however it was one of admiration for her confidence and her passion. Each word she spoke resonated with a ardour, her self expression and eloquence was unheard of. Here was a woman who understood him, the one thing he had ever wanted from a person, regardless of who that person may be.
He gave her a final glance, only to realise that his facade was degrading, crumbling around him. His fortress was not as strong as it previously was. He was vulnerable, a place he never wanted to find himself in. It was a place he resented most, that feeling of need and weakness. How was a woman capable of that? Where did she obtain the powers to strip a person of their outer coating and leave him relatively bare?
" My name is Celia." She whispered into his ear soothingly, running her long tongue around the edges sensuously. " I know that your name is Severus, however I will find your true identity." Celia smiled and stood up. Her black skirt dragged along the wooden floorboards and the candle light showed little appreciation for her remarkable figure. One final glance and she had left. Just that brief conversation had him dying to hear more of that calming, soft voice.
" Shit." He whispered quietly, his black, greasy hair falling onto his face. His hand slipped into his pocket and took out one gold galleon. He placed it beside his untouched butterbeer and prepared himself for the long trek to the castle.
His foot plummeted into the ice which had become a great deal thicker. The freeze ran cruelly up his leg and he barely tolerated the conditions. He wanted to return to the warmth of the bar, only something would not allow him to do so. Into the distance his saw the long, black billowing hair, freely caressing the strong gale. Her slender frame was wrapped in a long, black flowing cape which brushed against the white snow, leaving a faint reminder of her presence. It spurred the Potions master on, his feet crushing the snow in a panic.
" Celia!" He called out, his voice hardly reaching the gothic. Celia stopped and turned slowly around, adjusting her thick scarf.
" Severus, what a surprise. I thought you enjoyed the confines of the three broomsticks. What prompted you to return to the harsh world of realism?" A glorious smile was drawn on her face, intelligent and witty.
" Dumbledore." The smile faded slightly.
" Of course, your work calls you." A long, vibrant red scarf freed itself from the heavy imprisonment of the black cloak. Celia caressed it with her delicate hands, her blood red lips kissed the silken fabric. " I must leave. Here." She threw the scarf into the air and it snaked its way towards Snape and coiled around his neck and shoulders, providing well needed warmth.
" Will I see you again?"
" Of course you will." She whispered. " In your dreams and only in that place of fantasy." He shook his head.
" I won't let that happen."
" Well, this is out of character. Severus Snape never falls in love, or so the rumours claim." She turned away and before Snape was able to prevent anything from happening, the slender beauty vanished
